Lucas Murgida

Dust to Dust Video

2010-06-04T16:03:00.000-07:00

On Thursday May 13th I executed a four-hour performance in the basement of the Gallery BWA in Piotrkow Trybunalski, Poland as part of the Interakcje Performance Art Festival. After lighting incense in three of the four remaining coffins I proceeded to dismantle the fourth coffin into its pieces. After carefully removing all of the nails and screws I used a hand held surface planer to reduce all of the pieces into dust. Due to the small, crypt like nature of the space, the room quickly became thick with sawdust and smoke.

Review of Electrified Show in We Make Money Not Art Blog

2010-06-04T13:05:00.000-07:00

http://www.we-make-money-not-art.com/archives/2010/05/electrified-hacking-public-spa.php

No Man's Land

2010-06-03T11:13:00.000-07:00

On May 5, 2010 I executed a 3 hour performance in Ghent, Belgium. After lighting incense in four of the remaining coffins, I buried a fifth in an unused and rare portion of open space in Ghent. This piece was made possible by Vooruit. Thanks to Gregg Young for shooting and editing this video!

Private(s).2.0

2010-05-31T15:52:00.000-07:00

I added a mirror to 2 of the public/private male urinals in the city of Gent. Passers-by will get to share in the joy of public urination as a unwitting man relieves himself.

Many people assume that they have a right to certain degree of privacy in public places. As we move about there is a tendency to view our public surroundings as potential places where we can assert our sovereign nature. For instance a person might go behind a tree, hide in a shadow, go down an alley, or squat under a bridge to seek public solitude. In parks people lay claim to a patch of earth by unfolding a blanket and spreading it on the ground. Construction zones and yellow “caution” tape steer the public away from certain areas to create temporary private spaces. Cities even build places like phone booths and bathroom stalls for its citizens to enjoy private moments. As technology advances citizens ever increasingly walk around enraptured in the bubble of their cell phones. And, if a person is of a more pensive disposition, he or she might find their public/private moments walking, staring at the ground, while lost deep in thought. Public privacy can also exist on a subtler, subconscious level as we are taught from a young age to ignore certain public occurrences. The drunken man passed out on the ground or the beggar asking for change at the bus stop might appear to us no different than a tree or a lamppost as we make our way to work in the morning.When we stare past the woman being arrested by the police or ignore the man weeping on his stoop we effectively give the person who is having a public/private moment the privacy of our ambivalence. But, regardless of how the privacy manifests, it can only exist through an unspoken social contract that permits a person the right to assert and create his or her own overt or subconscious public privacy. And, despite the complicated game that manifests as a result of this silent agreement, most of us intuitively know that public/privacy is an illusion and a creation of man. There is no privacy.

Dust to Dust

2010-05-31T15:15:00.001-07:00

2010-05-31T15:14:00.001-07:00

2010-05-31T15:13:00.002-07:00

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2010-05-31T15:10:00.000-07:00

2010-05-31T15:09:00.002-07:00

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2010-05-31T15:08:00.001-07:00

2010-05-31T15:07:00.000-07:00

2010-05-31T15:05:00.002-07:00

2010-05-31T15:05:00.001-07:00

2010-05-31T15:04:00.001-07:00

2010-05-31T15:03:00.000-07:00

2010-05-31T14:53:00.000-07:00

I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles

2010-05-10T06:27:00.000-07:00

I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles

My thoughts shift to Poland. My only connection to the country is my Grandmother. She was the youngest of many children and the only one that was not born in Poland. She passed away when I was 13 and she is the only person that I have been close to that has died. I asked her about her family several times but she always refused to talk about it. I know she could speak Polish but I never heard her utter a word of it. She was a pensive and mysterious woman. As the years go by and my memories of her begin to fade there are a few things that always remind me of her. She would often sing an old song to her grandchildren called “I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles.” It was written in 1918 and its sad song about watching bubbles floating away. It seems like a fitting song for a devout Catholic woman who, though full of love for her family seemed (at least through the eyes of a child) to possess an inner sadness that was locked tightly and neatly away. The chorus to the song is:

I’m forever blowing bubbles,

Pretty bubbles in the air.

They climb so high,

Nearly reach the sky,

Then like my dreams,

They fade and die.

Fortunes always hiding,

I’ve looked everywhere.

I’m forever blowing bubbles,

Pretty bubbles in the air.

The song has been recorded many times but I am fond of the version by Vera Lynn, which is 3 minutes and 29 seconds in length. For my performance tonight I will wash my mouth out with soap and then attempt to silently blow bubbles for 3 minutes and 29 seconds as timed by my wrist watch.

I would like to dedicate my first performance in Poland, on what would be Mother’s Day in the United States, to the loving memory of my grandmother Helen Marie. Your grandchildren still whistle the song...

Washing Mouth

2010-05-10T06:25:00.000-07:00

Washing Mouth

2010-05-10T06:23:00.000-07:00

Big Bubble

2010-05-10T06:22:00.000-07:00

Little Bubble

2010-05-10T06:21:00.000-07:00

Swollen Lips

2010-05-10T06:20:00.000-07:00

Soap After

2010-05-10T06:19:00.001-07:00

Private(s).2.0

2010-05-07T16:16:00.000-07:00

I added a mirror to 2 of the public/private male urinals in the city of Gent. Passers-by will get to share in the joy of public urination as a unwitting man relieves himself.

Many people assume that they have a right to certain degree of privacy in public places. As we move about there is a tendency to view our public surroundings as potential places where we can assert our sovereign nature. For instance a person might go behind a tree, hide in a shadow, go down an alley, or squat under a bridge to seek public solitude. In parks people lay claim to a patch of earth by unfolding a blanket and spreading it on the ground. Construction zones and yellow “caution” tape steer the public away from certain areas to create temporary private spaces. Cities even build places like phone booths and bathroom stalls for its citizens to enjoy private moments. As technology advances citizens ever increasingly walk around enraptured in the bubble of their cell phones. And, if a person is of a more pensive disposition, he or she might find their public/private moments walking, staring at the ground, while lost deep in thought. Public privacy can also exist on a subtler, subconscious level as we are taught from a young age to ignore certain public occurrences. The drunken man passed out on the ground or the beggar asking for change at the bus stop might appear to us no different than a tree or a lamppost as we make our way to work in the morning. When we stare past the woman being arrested by the police or ignore the man weeping on his stoop we effectively give the person who is having a public/private moment the privacy of our ambivalence. But, regardless of how the privacy manifests, it can only exist through an unspoken social contract that permits a person the right to assert and create his or her own overt or subconscious public privacy. And, despite the complicated game that manifests as a result of this silent agreement, most of us intuitively know that public/privacy is an illusion and a creation of man. There is no privacy.

Private(s).2.0

2010-05-07T16:15:00.000-07:00

Private(s).2.0

2010-05-07T16:14:00.002-07:00

Private(s).2.0

2010-05-07T16:13:00.000-07:00

No Man's Land, before performance

2010-05-05T15:41:00.000-07:00

On May 5, 2010 I executed a 3 hour performance in Ghent, Belgium. After lighting incense in four of the remaining coffins, I buried a fifth in an unused and rare portion of open space in Ghent.

Me Before

2010-05-05T15:40:00.000-07:00

Lighting Fire

2010-05-05T15:39:00.002-07:00

Fire

2010-05-05T15:39:00.001-07:00

Getting Started

2010-05-05T15:38:00.000-07:00

Digging

2010-05-05T15:37:00.002-07:00

Digging Some More

2010-05-05T15:37:00.001-07:00

Sunsett

2010-05-05T15:36:00.001-07:00

Carrying it Over

2010-05-05T15:35:00.002-07:00

Putting It In

2010-05-05T15:35:00.001-07:00

Small Fire Situation

2010-05-05T15:34:00.000-07:00

Trying to Put the Sod Back Neatly

2010-05-05T15:33:00.000-07:00

Re-Robing

2010-05-05T15:32:00.000-07:00

No Man's Land

2010-05-05T05:40:00.000-07:00

Performance Tonight, May 5th, 2010 from 19:00-Until it's done. Gent, Belgium.

In an attempt to create a truly public/private moment, San Francisco artist Lucas Murgida will be performing an action on Wednesday May 5^th in a forgotten piece of land in between the old part of Gent and Dampoort. This No Man’s Land is situated on the east side of the Archterdok waterway between Dok-Zuid and the river, just north of the Dampoort Bridge. Murgida will be burying a small coffin that traveled with him from the United States. The action will begin at 7 PM and will continue until the coffin is neatly buried and in the ground without evidence of the event.

Lucas Murgida’s work is generally regarded as generous, challenging, difficult to look at and at the same time impossible to ignore. For more information about him please go to his website: www.lucasmurgida.com. To learn about his adventures in Gent visit his blog: http://lucasmurgida.blogspot.com/. And, to see a video highlighting another action he completed related to this event watch this video: http://www.vimeo.com/10253056.

Willem De Beersteeg Park at Night

2010-05-03T17:19:00.000-07:00

Possible spot for the performance in the park at the end of Willem De Beersteeg. The street lights turned on at about 9:15 and the sky was completely black by 10:00. There are three other large lights in the park but they never turned on. The lights shown in the picture are from the building behind the park. It looked pretty nice and I think it will work.

Viking Funeral and A Smoking Red Box

2010-05-03T17:09:00.001-07:00

I said goodbye to my friend the red box tonight. I tried to give it the powerful Viking burial but it instead turned into a rather impotent flush down the toilet...sigh. It started off really well, however, gust of wind quickly blew out the flames that illuminated the inside of the box. I got a couple of good shots, but in the end my little camera wasn’t strong enough. The box quickly traveled down the Ketelvaart Cannel but then met a strong current from the opposite direction that then stalled it in the middle of the river. As it initially sped away from me I chased it down the river running down the walkways and up to the bridges trying to capture some images. Eventually I realized that people were watching from bridges and from windows. On the last bridge someone came up and asked if the box was mine and I said yes. He simply said, “It looks nice.” After that I just sat and watched it for a while. It looked quite nice to the human eye. Smoke wafting from a slightly illumined red box floating down the river. I let it go after that. If it still there in morning I’ll try to fish it out of the river.

Red Box floats Away

2010-05-03T17:07:00.000-07:00

Contemporary Viking Funeral

2010-05-03T17:06:00.000-07:00

More of the Red Box

2010-05-03T17:05:00.001-07:00

Bye Bye Box

2010-05-03T17:02:00.001-07:00

This is possibly the worst picture ever taken but it shows where the box stalled in the river's current.

Old Boats, May 2nd

2010-05-02T12:50:00.000-07:00

Last Night

2010-05-02T03:24:00.000-07:00

Mysterious picture with red box.

Not so improved box design

2010-05-02T03:22:00.001-07:00

New and improved box that turned out to be not so new and improved. Will redesign again. Top one shows incense, oil pellets. They looks like fish tank rocks...

Under Bridge

2010-05-02T03:19:00.000-07:00

I wanted to but the box in this quiet space under a bridge but I couldn't get the box to really glow like the other night. So, I started carrying it around trying to find better illuminated locations, but nothing seemed to work. Will try again tomorrow.

Under Bridge

2010-05-02T03:16:00.000-07:00

Box on Bridge with Man

2010-05-02T03:13:00.000-07:00

Tried to find spots with more light....

Private

2010-05-02T03:11:00.001-07:00

Private dock, with my box

Public People Privacy

2010-05-01T14:08:00.001-07:00

Open-aired, male urinal with a view.

Pubic Puppy Privacy

2010-05-01T14:06:00.000-07:00

Open-aired, doggie urinal with a view.

Between Gent and Dampoort with Rain, May Day Part #2

2010-05-01T13:42:00.000-07:00

See May Day Part #1 for the first part of this entry: http://lucasmurgida.blogspot.com/2010/05/image0045jpg.html

I spent the rest of May Day wandering around the outskirts of the city exploring the line between the old part of Gent and an area known as Dampoort. One has to cross two bridges to get to this neighborhood and it immediately feels like you are entering a different city. A very mild version of the adage “the other side of the tracks.” In between the two there is a strip of overgrown green space full of trash and brambles. Today there were scattered rainstorms that kept many people in doors and those that came out were downtown celebrating May Day. As a result my no-mans-land between Gent and Dampoort was practically deserted. The solitude felt strange because open spaces in Gent are very out of the ordinary. It turns out that Belgium is one of the most densely populated countries in Europe. This density is not the same as what I imagine Tokyo or Mexico City to be, but nevertheless it produces a pervasive sensation that feels quite different than the spaciousness that I am used to in California. It is subtle but one gets the feeling that you are surrounded by lots of people. It is difficult to find truly private moments when in the city. This creates an interesting effect on the people of Gent. I am reluctant to write about this phenomenon because I think it is naive when a traveler goes someplace and starts “pointing” at what is unfamiliar. However what I experiencing is directly related to my current research and art projects so it seems relevant (go here to read details about current research: http://lucasmurgida.blogspot.com/2010/04/first-thoughts-for-electrified-2.html). So the following writing is not meant to be a judgment. My intention is to simply process and share what I have been observing and experiencing.

Each day as I walk around the city I am almost completely ignored. Say, for example, I am walking down a quiet street and someone is walking towards me. As this man or women passes by I look at them and say “hello.” and the person walks by as if I am not there. At first I thought I was imagining things, because I am a sensitive little guy, but it kept happening. I really had to make a strong attempt for anyone to even look at me when outside in public and if I did receive notice I was looked at as if I was crazy. After about a week of this, I asked two of the people who work at Vooruit if I was imagining things. To my relief they said no. I asked if this is a thing specific to Gent and they both told me that it was a Belgium thing. I asked them why but they couldn’t tell me but they were both quite friendly and open to discussion. So as I have been walking around the city feeling hedged in by all the invisible people it occurred that perhaps this cold, public, aloofness manifests as a result of density of the country. In a crowded place people crave public privacy and since it is difficult to physically find in Gent the citizen’s retreat to a mental public privacy by ignoring the people around them. The citizens of Gent seem to be experts at creating very subtle public privacy. Who knows...I am probably just projecting myself on to what I am observing, because isolation seems to be a recurring theme in my work (go here to learn more about this isolation: http://lucasmurgida.blogspot.com/2010/05/image0045jpg.html).

Nevertheless, over the past two days this public isolation from the people of Gent and the foreboding, subtle discomfort that I was experiencing from being in a densely populated place had me searching for places in the city were one could be alone. Often I would find small sitting areas in the middle of the city that were disserted, but yet I still felt coldly, crowded. As I kept looking I started following the paths of the rivers and canals that cut through the city. Periodically there will be staircases that lead down from the street to docks and walkways that straddle the river. Sometimes an alley from a major street will end in a small staircase that leads directly into the water. And, in these walkways and redundant staircases I finally found that quiet spaces. I felt immediately at ease and no longer coldly, hedged in. Often the walkways are dirty and unkept, drastically contrasting the clean and tidy feeling of the rest of the city. Boats are tied to the sides of the cannel in a haphazard fashion and look as if they have not been moved in 20 years. As I walked, climbed and straddled my way along edges of the cannel I found other people finding relief from the throngs of tourists and students in the river’s secret walkways. A young boy sneaking a cigarette on tiny staircase nestled between two ancient buildings at the waters edge. Three teenage boys sitting on a dirty walkway looking awkwardly high and paranoid as I walked by. An old man watching the trash float by. When I would climb back up to the street level the sense of dense, invisibility would always return. In a word: “weird.”

Secret Little Blue Boat

2010-05-01T13:41:00.001-07:00

Invisible Stairs

2010-05-01T13:39:00.000-07:00

Quiet Space Under Vooruit

2010-05-01T13:38:00.000-07:00

No Man's Land

2010-05-01T06:09:00.001-07:00

Other side of the tracks. Small

green area with trash and brambles

in between the old part of Gent and

a neighborhood called Dampoort. Light

rain. Felt very quiet and open compared

to the rest of the city.

Noses of Gent

2010-05-01T05:26:00.001-07:00

Traditional gummie candy. Tastes like

berries and herbs.

Public Nap After A Light Snack

2010-05-01T05:08:00.001-07:00

A man exercises his right to public

privacy by sneaking in quick nap after

lunch.

May Day Part #1

2010-05-01T04:17:00.001-07:00

Workers wear red on May Day. The name of the organization that is sponsoring my stay in Gent is called, “Vooruit.” The word “vooruit” was the rallying cry of the socialist labor movement and it means “forward!” as in “charge!” or referring to a progression towards a noble future (pronounced: “voor-et”.) In German the word is: “vorwarts” and is pronounced “for-warts” which sounds almost sounds exactly like “forwards” in English. Almost all the stores in the city were closed to celebrate the holiday. In the main town square there was a beer garden and stage for music. Many people were dressed in red to celebrate the holiday in solidarity. Also there was a parade with marching bands along with various organizations such as their equivalent to the boys and girls scouts. When I asked people about what to expect on May Day many shrugged it off as not that big of a deal. One even said it is not like the 4^th of July. For most of the citizens of Gent it seemed like simply a day off. It made me think of "Labor Day" in the United States.

As I experience May Day I can’t help but think about my own experiences as a “worker.” When people ask me the question: what kind of art do you make? I usually respond, “I make art about how I earn my living.” Much of my artwork uses ideas of labor, social roles, and working with one’s hands. I have always shy-ed away from conversations regarding the proletariat posturing of my artwork. I often use the excuse that I am not one to meddle too heavily in politics. However, there are other reasons. My life has afforded me the opportunity to see the world from both sides of coin when it comes to the class struggle that Marx and Engels outlined. I grew up in a relatively affluent place that was quiet, rural, homogeneous, and isolated. As I got older it was difficult to get anywhere because I didn’t always have access to a car. The closest shopping center was about a 15-minute drive away and closest malls were about a half hour. These distances left me feeling pretty cut off at times. I bear no ill will towards the place. I got a really good public school education and it was a very safe place to be a kid. However, being raised in this community there were clear expectations for me to grow up and work with my head and not with my hands. I was expected to on go to college, get married, buy a house and breed more capitalists (to use the Marxist paradigm). Almost all the 188 people that I graduated high school with went on to college. But, I chose not to (though, I eventually got a BFA.) I moved to Boston and worked with kids for two years and then in a small cabinet factory. I say factory because usually when I tell people that I used to work as a cabinet-maker they immediately equate this notion with ideas of fine craftsmanship, rare wood and complicated, old-world joinery. This was not the kind of place that I worked in. Though I can make pretty nice one of kind pieces of furniture what I am really good at is making, for instance, 20 of the same piece of furniture in a simple and efficient style. In fact what I best at is sorting and organizing lumber; choosing which of the thousands of boards is best suited to used for the different parts of the furniture. Straightest and cleanest for doors most warped and damaged for backs and bottoms...etc. My time in these loud shops was spent wearing large ear protection and often breathing through a respirator. The owner of the first shop that I ever worked at refused to let his workers listened to music because he said it was too distracting. Being distracted in a woodshop is dangerous thing and my hands have the scars to prove it. So, I would spend my days isolated from my co-workers by loud machines, facemasks and ear protection. As the years went by I often lived in loud places. As I would study for my night classes or work on my drawings I often found myself retreating to the silence of my ear protection so I could concentrate.

As I strolled around on May Day in search of quiet places I realized that when I think about labor, socialism and the “worker”, my thoughts often gravitate towards ideas of isolation. I suppose these feelings partly stem from the physical isolation that I experienced growing up. But at the same time, on May Day, I wonder if there is more to it. I was raised, borrowing again from Marx and Engles, to become part of the bourgeoisie but wound up a sort-of-proletariat worker. And, being in between the two I have never felt a connection to either. And it seems these ideas of physical and mental isolation fuse together every time I put on my ear protection in search of solitude.

As I prepare for my performance all these ideas come bubbling to the surface. I constructed six matching coffins, because making quality multiples is what I have been trained as a worker to do. As I perform I will strip down the lower half my body to be vulnerable and completely protect my head with a tinted, full-face shield and respirator while I wear ear protection. Covered in this way the majority of my senses will be cut off from on-lookers and the world. I could have chosen a latex mask like a dominatrix might use or perhaps a hood like a torture victim might be forced to wear, but I instead choose to isolate myself as a worker would. I am not attempting to shock or awe people in anyway as I bury one of the coffins in this fashion. I have choosen a place in the city that is cut off from the main thorough fares, in a small park, on a dead end street lined with vacant buildings and houses being renovated. I will be, like the citizens of Gent, attempting to have a private moment in a public space. My art projects are beginning to change. It seems that I no longer, "make art about how I earn my living." Instead, I think I am now just making art about being an artist.

Anyways, I wandered and eventually came upon the center of town. There were a fair amount of people, but not a massive crowd. Towards the edges of the gathering there were different tables set up. One was selling tee-shirts of Ché Guevara and offering Cuban drinks made with Havana Club (a rum made in Cuba that is still unavailable in the U.S. because of the embargo.) Another table offering used books about Socialism. And, another selling tee-shirts of Malcolm X and pamphlets. Next to them there was a group of anarchist-looking-kids gathered around a radio listening and singing along to Rage Against the Machine. The whole scene became terribly unnerving and I left in a hurry to find the quiet places.

Party at Vooruit

2010-04-30T16:06:00.001-07:00

Zenny made me go out. Sven made sure I had a good time...

Staircase that goes nowhere

2010-04-30T10:32:00.001-07:00

These are quiet places in the city.

Dirty secret walkway.

2010-04-30T09:52:00.001-07:00

No tourists here.

Alley that leads to small landing.

2010-04-30T09:49:00.003-07:00

Saw a young kid sneaking a cigarette here.

Small space under small bridge.

2010-04-30T09:49:00.001-07:00

First privacy I found in Gent.

Sitting area.

2010-04-30T09:48:00.003-07:00

The city makes quiet areas on the river.

Old boats

2010-04-30T09:48:00.001-07:00

Many broken and neglected boats line the unused walkways.

Waffles for ROCK

2010-04-30T07:04:00.001-07:00

I ate a waffle and thought of PJ Rock.

This ones for you...

Smoking red crate and Sint-Baaes Plein

2010-04-29T16:05:00.000-07:00

I somehow missed Wednesday. The days are moving by in a chaotic pattern. I am not jet lagged, but I have no idea where I am. The coffins were removed from their carrying bags today and were in shambles. A kind man named Danny that works on Vooruit’s facilities team is repairing them. They will be finished (better than new) on Monday. They still have to make it to Poland and then back to San Francisco, so he has taken the liberty to redesign the lids to insure that they survive. He also gave me detailed recommendations on where to get the best chocolate. I got lucky. Done exploring the city. Gent possesses no sage. Learned a new Dutch word: “wierook.” It means “incense.” Traveled to a priest supply store and purchased tiny catholic charcoal briquettes and oil incense in a pellet like form. It looks like the rocks one would use in their fish tank. Works quite well. Experimented tonight in front of the Sint-Baaes Plein. First and only Cathedral I have ever been in. Seemed like a good spot to test the wierook. Found a plastic red crate. As the coals were catching fire the crate cast a perfect incandescent glow. I think I will use it again. It has been unusually warm in Gent, it just began to rain and I am still invisible.

Smoking red crate and Sint-Baaes Plein

2010-04-29T16:04:00.000-07:00

Smoking in front of Sint-Baaes Plein

2010-04-29T16:01:00.000-07:00

Glowing Box, Flowers and statue

2010-04-29T15:58:00.000-07:00

The box was radiating as the flames kindled the coals for the incense.

Glowing Box

2010-04-29T15:53:00.000-07:00

The box cast a perfect glow as I lit the fire to kindle

the coals for the incense.

Video about Electrified 2

2010-04-29T09:25:00.000-07:00

If you can speak Dutch you will love this video!

The show is themed around the idea of "hacking public

space."

Documentation of Grip, Grasp, Grope and Fondle

2010-04-29T09:08:00.000-07:00

This video documents the performance and installation that I recently executed at Portland State University's Autzen Gallery. The coffins traveled with me to Gent and will be used in one of my performances...

Possible Intervention Location, Sint-Anna Plein, Gent, Belgium

2010-04-29T06:38:00.001-07:00

Sint-Anna Plein

Possible Intervention Location, Sint-Anna Plein, Gent, Belgium

2010-04-29T06:36:00.001-07:00

Image0030.jpg
Originally uploaded by lucasmurgida

Possible Intervention Location, Willem De Beersteeg Street, Gent, Belgium, View #1

2010-04-29T06:13:00.001-07:00

Pentanque court, facing the water, and is isolated from busy streets.

Possible Intervention Location, Willem De Beersteeg Street, Gent, Belgium, View #2

2010-04-29T06:10:00.001-07:00

Might be a perfect spot. Secluded, with a petanque court and surrounded by unused buildings.

Pee Stall for two on Kunstalaan Street

2010-04-29T03:32:00.001-07:00

Image0025.jpg
Originally uploaded by lucasmurgida

Pee stall on Kunstlaan Street in Between Vooruit and S.M.A.K.

4 out 5 coffin lids destroyed in Trans-Atlantic journey

2010-04-29T02:18:00.001-07:00

Image0024.jpg
Originally uploaded by lucasmurgida

Coffins met extreme care on plane...one made it!

Extreme Prejudice, ala British Airway's

2010-04-29T02:12:00.001-07:00

Ug
Image0023.jpg
Originally uploaded by lucasmurgida

First Thoughts for Electrified 2 Project

2010-04-28T16:00:00.000-07:00

Many people assume that they have a right to certain degree of privacy in public places. As we move about there is a tendency to view our public surroundings as potential places where we can assert our sovereign nature. For instance a person might go behind a tree, hide in a shadow, go down an alley, or squat under a bridge to seek public solitude. In parks people lay claim to a patch of earth by unfolding a blanket and spreading it on the ground. Construction zones and yellow “caution” tape steer the public away from certain areas to create temporary private spaces. Cities even build places like phone booths and bathroom stalls for its citizens to enjoy private moments. As technology advances citizens ever increasingly walk around enraptured in the bubble of their cell phones. And, if a person is of a more pensive disposition, he or she might find their public/private moments walking, staring at the ground, while lost deep in thought. Public privacy can also exist on a subtler, subconscious level as we are taught from a young age to ignore certain public occurrences. The drunken man passed out on the ground or the beggar asking for change at the bus stop might appear to us no different than a tree or a lamppost as we make our way to work in the morning. When we stare past the woman being arrested by the police or ignore the man weeping on his stoop we effectively give the person who is having a public/private moment the privacy of our ambivalence. But, regardless of how the privacy manifests, it can only exist through an unspoken social contract that permits a person the right to assert and create his or her own overt or subconscious public privacy. And, despite the complicated game that manifests as a result of this silent agreement, most of us intuitively know that public/privacy is an illusion and a creation of man. There is no privacy.

Gent after 2.5 days

2010-04-28T15:44:00.000-07:00

Gent is a beautiful city. I wander the city following the meandering course of the unplanned roads. Architecture stacked upon history stacked upon my projections. I keep walking. At night I sip loose beers and hunt for cheap fries. I am still invisible. I pass unnoticed. They can smell the California on me. The uneven cobblestones hurt my feet. I slowly walk over the stones in attempt not to crack my head open in a tumble. I know that I cannot sustain anymore blunt head trauma.The ladies of Gent hurry by me as I creep along, floating on their terribly fashionable high-healed shoes. Upon returning to my room and removing my shoes I feel as if I have been on a boat all day. Legs are unsteady, ready to adjust to an unbalanced surface that doesn't exist. I am beginning to relax.

Pee Stall for one, Gent, Belgium

2010-04-28T15:37:00.000-07:00

Many years ago, to solve the problem of drunken men peeing all over the streets of Gent, the city installed enclosed concrete troughs for the men to expel their urine into. However, due to their enclosed nature, the pee rooms smelled awful. Solution: make them open aired, offer a delightful view of the city, and still give a young man the privacy he craves. The urinals are situated in a curved alcove so all a passerby can see is a man’s covered rear end as he relieves himself and takes in the historic sites. Sorry ladies, apparently there are no pee rooms for you...yet.

Pee Stall for one, Gent, Belgium, View While Peeing

2010-04-28T15:36:00.000-07:00

Pee Stall for two, Gent, Belgium

2010-04-28T15:34:00.002-07:00

Pee Stall for two, Gent, Belgium, View While Peeing

2010-04-28T15:34:00.001-07:00

Pee Stall for two, Gent, Belgium

2010-04-28T15:32:00.001-07:00

My work in S.M.A.K.'s Electrified 2 Exhibition, Gent, Belgium

2010-04-28T15:20:00.000-07:00

The show is a combined effort between Vooruit and S.M.A.K.

http://www.smak.be/

http://vooruit.be/en

Gent after 1.5 days

2010-04-28T14:37:00.000-07:00

The waffles are light and not terribly heavy when first consumed. Later sitting in my stomach, they feel like a glazed San Franciscan buttermilk donut that was cooked in the same grease that the wantons and egg rolls were created in. This is how to find the best donut. As I wander, at times I follow the paths of the canals and rivers that sever the city. Other times the roads pull me in directions for no apparent reason, opening up to an impromptu roundabout that seems to always include some sort of church or at least something that resembles a church. Everything is clearly labeled in a language that looks and sounds as if English and German collided like two trains weighed down by atomic bombs with fire-cracker brake peddles. This ferocious power is pleasant and melodic to my ear. Everyone seems to speak at least 3 languages. English is second nature to most. I wander and project Boston onto the buildings. I remember meandering in late fall just before the snow was about to enter the city with Flato. No particular place to be and no money to do it. Drastically contrasting architecture dipped in histories of revolution and witch trials. Bricked Colonial next to 1970’s Minimalist Cement. Gent’s flower market with well-trodden divisional walkways of ancient and timely class struggles solved with an inner area for the bourgeois dancers and a separate one for the watching workers. High Renaissance beautifully bound to Gothic with Medieval duct tape and a drainpipe painted like a blue and white striped barber’s pole. I walk back to my room along the Leie (river or canal...not sure) bouncing a found tennis ball in my head from Cambridge all the way back to Alston with Nicky, wondering if the summer heat will let up. Tomorrow I will begin preparations for my project.

Possible Intervention Location, Munipark, Gent, Belgium, View #1

2010-04-28T10:34:00.001-07:00

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Originally uploaded by lucasmurgida

Possible Intervention Location, Munipark, Gent, Belgium, View #2

2010-04-28T10:33:00.001-07:00

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Originally uploaded by lucasmurgida

Possible Intervention Location, Munipark, Gent, Belgium, View #3

2010-04-28T10:30:00.001-07:00

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Originally uploaded by lucasmurgida